Hello, Wraith Headquarters!
by Geoarchaeologist
Summary: Dr. Weir sends Sheppard's team on a mission to learn more about Wraith civilization...unfortunately, it had to be parodied.
1. Chapter 1: Sheppard's Bad Day

Hello! Wraith Headquarters, how can I direct your call?

By: Geoarchaeologist

CHAPTER 1: SHEPPARD'S BAD DAY 

On a not so sunny day, at a not so agreeable time, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard found himself at a large U-Shaped table in the so-called Briefing Room or Conference Room, depending on how involving you felt that day. That day, he was feeling not so parley. It could have just been the rotten weather, what with the clouds darkening and puffening, holding their breaths until they exploded in awesome fury. (And I'm quite aware that I just made up the word 'puffening'.)Awesome for them – the clouds that is, if they indeed thought what it was they were doing to be awesome. Sheppard would have disagreed with them, the clouds that is, if that's what they thought, because he didn't think it was awesome at all. They, the clouds that is, worked up the ocean with fierce winds and rain until it just sloshed about chaotically, abjectly informing any human that happened to be riding along on flat board-like objects that they better shove off. Which is exactly what Sheppard found himself doing.

To make matters worse, and Sheppard had to admit that blaming the clouds was probably silly, though satisfying; four angry objects followed him to shore. The four objects were alive and happened to look like fluffy happy pillows, complete with frilly lace trimming that came straight from your Granny Mabel's couch. Of course Sheppard knew this were not the case; he didn't have a Granny Mabel. It was a good thing this line of thought was occurring to him, because just then the fluffy happy pillows had big scary mouths with gnashing dagger teeth. They just wanted his surfboard, not Sheppard himself. But they weren't about to go into negotiations about it and in fact didn't even inform Sheppard of their plans. They just took the surfboard and flopped their pillowy selves upon it and sailed off, gnawing the boarding along the way.

Yes. It had been a wretched day indeed. Dr. Elizabeth Weir, standing before them in the Briefing Room with her arms interminably folded, could brief them all she wanted, until her mouth oozed with briefingness and she sank and died of it; Sheppard would not conference. Absolutely not. So he demanded silently that it would be a briefing. A man who had just lost his only love, a surfboard that shone like the glitter of stars and had ridden the waters of time, to a group of ravenous upsetting pillows with teeth, was not a man in any sort of state to parley in a conference. Unless they wanted to hear his heart-wrenching story.

Hm.

"My surfboard was just carried off, eaten and probably destroyed by grandma's pillows in the ocean this morning!" Sheppard burst out, no longer able to contain himself.

Weir had a finger in mid-air, about to begin the meeting – in which happened to be more of a briefing than a conference, so Sheppard really had just made a fool out of himself for nothing, and stopped in surprise. She cleared her throat in a sort of confused stammer, the sort you let gurgle for as long as seems normal because you're in the midst of trying to figure out just how the hell to respond to an outlandish comment like that.

Teyla, who really only had sensible and logical things to say, was the first to speak: "Colonel, are you feeling okay?"

"No!" Sheppard informed her, as well as the rest of the team. "Because my surfboard was just carried off, eaten and probably destroyed by grandma's pillows in the ocean this morning!"

"You've said that twice now," McKay leaned back into his seat with that half-closed lids, drawling sort of look that tells us McKay has just come up with some nicely clever waspish retorts. "Which means," he snapped a finger, "You obviously didn't find anything wrong the first time you said it." A concerning look came over him.

"What's _wrong _is that my surfboard was just carried off, eaten and probably destroyed by grandma's pillows in the ocean this morning! Are my devastating qualms falling on deaf ears? Or what. Because it's for this very reason that I'm not in the mood to discuss anything today. So this better not be a conference."

Weir cleared her throat again, wished she had some papers to shuffle, and stared at her laptop as if she were deeply involved with something important – which she wasn't. Finally she stood back up and said, "It's not really a conference, Colonel, so…anyway, today's agenda…is the Wraith."

"Again?" Sheppard sighed in a depressed sort of way. It was mostly the surfboard, but the Wraith were just as bad as having been diagnosed with depression; they were like their own disease. If you had Wraith, you had bigger problems than Bi-Polarism, my friend. In fact, you might even wish you were Bi-Polar, too, as well as Wraith. At least then, you'd have some really gleefully happy moments of the day. With Wraith, it was just frown after frown after run-like-hell and then frown some more.

"Now what?" McKay drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, clearly having better things to do than get all depressed and worried about the Wraith – though Sheppard would have a hard time choosing between quantum mechanics and death by Wraith, they seemed pretty equal in the degree of suffering. "We just sent them running back to Wraith-Land or wherever it is they came from, how could we possibly need to worry about them today. Can't we just have one day off? Don't they have Wraith holidays? Where they take a break from the daily monotony of killing thousands of innocent people?"

"Well, incidentally, I was just wondering about that," Weir grinned, while frightening Sheppard and his team.

"What – about asking the Wraith when they take their vacations?" McKay puzzled.

"No, I was thinking that we should find out more about their world, their civilization."

There was a bit of a shocked paused followed by worried laughter.

McKay brushed it off completely. "The Wraith? You mean," he beat his chest like a gorilla, while Sheppard reflected how oddly well that suited him, saying, "Me-Wraith! …I doubt there's much to learn or know, and quite frankly, I don't want to know!"

"You should always know your enemy when it is possible," Teyla issued another wise saying to McKay in always a timely fashion.

"Exactly," Weir agreed. "Rodney, we've seen their technology and ships…and remember the research they were conducting on Teyla's people eons ago? To organize their system like this requires central administration; a governing power, education, and labour division. We've never seen it. I think we should take the time, while we have it, to learn what we can. I have a gate-address here within a few hours travel distance to a heavily populated Wraith world, apparently one of the main centres of Wraith civilization, the Ancients once held peace talks here."

"Peace talks?" Sheppard coughed.

"I think the Wraith lied about them – or at least they didn't go well," Weir scratched her head, "Because the delegates were thrown back into the gate as devoured corpses."

"Ah, and you want us to go there?" McKay hardly seemed surprised.

"Yes."

"Okay!" Sheppard agreed brightly, standing up.

McKay, upon seeing Sheppard's mood lift slightly, narrowed his eyes and stared at him with suspicion. "Why are you so agreeable with this freakishly dangerous mission?"

Sheppard lowered his eyes and darkened his expression. "I just lost my surfboard, _McKay, _as far as I'm concerned, I've lost all sense of purpose. So pack up, we're leaving after lunch."

"Yes but, why do I have to suffer as well, like I cared about your stupid surfboard," McKay was the last to leave the Briefing Room.

Another foreboding mission was about to begin; but at least they weren't going to a planet of deceivingly nice, happy people who end up really having a delightful passion for evil and stealing spaceships for the sole purpose of flying them into brick walls. A good thing indeed. Don't know how much more of that I could take. You'd think they'd take a hint by now.


	2. Chapter 2: Don't Press that Button!

CHAPTER TWO: DON'T PRESS THAT BUTTON

Getting into the jumper was easy. Exiting through the Gate was easy. Approaching the Wraith planet was not so easy. The level of difficulty sort of meandered away from comfortable linear progressions to take a devastatingly sharp turn at Exponential Curve Lane.

Lt. Colonel Sheppard shifted uncomfortably in his seat and gripped the jumper controls a little more firmly than usual.

McKay tugged at his collar. "We're cloaked right?"

Sheppard stared at him; his stare contained one very obvious message: "WHAT THE HELL KIND OF QUESTION WAS THAT? YOU THINK I'D PULL THIS JUMPER INTO ORBIT AROUND A WRAITH WORLD SO THEY COULD SHOOT US DOWN AND –" Honestly, it was just much simpler to say it with an angry glare.

Anyway, so Sheppard and his team began the adventure by flying the jumper into the vicinity of the Wraith planet. It was a darkened chunk of sub-par rock squashed into a planet-like shape. They probably had no atmosphere given that they could see sprawling cities taking up all the room; no distortion, no clouds, no nothing. It was a no-nothing sort of world. There weren't even any forests or lakes or oceans and it was actually kind of sad. There were some volcanoes, though; the Wraith seemed to like volcanoes at least.

"Where does the Wraith obtain all of their resources? Teyla eyed the planet on visual, thinking it to be a good time to start up discussions.

Sheppard was hoping that they wouldn't have a good time to have a discussion about it; a Wraith attack would have actually been more interesting.

But all of the hive ships were busy sitting on the planet, doing a lot of nothing. Many Wraith darts and other little ships they had never seen before zipped in and out of the planet, however. They sometimes came from out of nowhere and sometimes they came from what looked like a giant space station, spinning like a top in orbit around the planet.

"Oh my god, did you get a load of that thing?" Sheppard dropped his jaw and pointed out of the viewer to the space station. "There's…a space station sitting out there!"

"Yes? I've been saying that for the past five minutes," McKay sighed, taking more readings. He stopped trying to tell Sheppard of the things he was finding by that point.

"So, what exactly are we supposed to do? We're sitting here in front of the Wraith planet…how are we supposed to learn anything about them besides these scanty readings? I mean, I could have guessed their planet would be dark and hideous devoid of trees and water, because what would the Wraith want with anything nice looking?" He paused for a moment, in thought.

But McKay, always up for banter, turned and said, "Didn't you even listen to the rest of the briefing?"

"No."

"No?"

"I was distraught, Rodney. Don't you have that word in your vocabulary? Or that feeling in your nervous system?"

"Colonel, I don't think you're using the word _distraught _in any kind of correct context; distraught and surfboard, they're just two words that should never belong in the same sentence, okay? You are distraught over Lt. Ford's disappearance; you are distraught about no more coffee on Atlantis; you are NOT distraught over the destruction of a surfboard."

"There's no more coffee on Atlantis!" Sheppard dropped his jaw again, pretty much to the same extreme as before when he had spotted the Wraith space station; odd how there should have been a difference and yet there wasn't.

"Yes, well, let's get on with the mission, shall we?" McKay looked away quickly, barely hiding the guilt that plastered his face like the street bills of a city construction site's walls.

But Sheppard was feeling much too wretched about things now, too much to bother with the mission. First his surfboard was taken away and eaten on a perfectly crappy day, and now he discovers that coffee no longer exists on Atlantis. Revenge was usually a good outlet to fix such unhappy problems, but the former situation provided no easy way of going about it; where to find and destroy four angry pillows with munchy mouths? They were out there, somewhere, in the ocean, and Sheppard was going to find them. Telling himself this covered up for the obscene truth of the matter that he was not likely going to find them again. So when he finally realized that for the past few hours he had been deluded about the whole thing, he felt that inflicting his anger on Rodney for the coffee-problem was his best bet to rectify the whole thing.

"You're going to pay for that, Rodney." Sheppard gave him quite a frightening look and turned back to the controls.

"It wasn't me!" McKay protested, knowing exactly what Sheppard was babbling about.

"Don't lie, would you? It just makes it worse."

"Colonel? Doctor? Perhaps we should return to the mission," Teyla interjected, wanting to pound her head against the windows until they smashed and she could retreat into the vacuum (and silence) of space and far away from Sheppard and McKay.

"What mission! What are we even supposed to do!" Sheppard threw his hands into the air.

"Connect into their mainframe computer system! What I've been trying to do for the past few minutes before you started winding up your mouth!"

Sheppard slammed himself back against his chair, nestling himself into it, and closed his eyes. "Fine. Fine. Tell me when we're done."

"Done," McKay said with marked irritation in his voice. "Now, I turn it on."

The unpleasant view of the Wraith's grim little world was replaced by an even more unpleasant view of a Wraith hologram transmission. At least, that's what they were hoping. It didn't take any time to glare and snarl at them – which was usually the customary greeting practice of the Wraith. It began to talk…in a pleasant voice. It sounded like a BBC newscaster. More disturbingly, the three had just suddenly noticed that it was wearing a suit with a tie.

"Welcome to Anti-Atlantis, fourth colony of the Wraith Dominion and over 14,000 years old. Our National Anthem alone is a famous attribute of this homely world, and sings out, "Die Atlantians Die, for we are the 4th Colony." We're glad you've chosen our world for your business or holiday pleasures. We hope to graciously meet your needs. If you are arriving in pursuit of holiday vacation reservations, press 1. If you are arriving for a business rendezvous, press 2. If you are a 4th colony Wraith returning home, press 3. If you are of a different species registered under the Wraith Import Register, or do not know if you are, press 4.

_Beep._

"What the hell did you just do?" McKay looked down at Sheppard's hand as it left the control consol. It had just pressed a button.

Sheppard looked up at him, startled. "Oh, sorry, it's just so automatic. You know? Listening to these automated services – you don't even think when it tells you to press the number buttons."

"Oh my god, don't tell me…"

"Hello! Wraith Import Department, how can we help you unidentified spacecraft 114 mark 2?" A cheery female Wraith responded – it was still a rather hoarse voice but in such a lilt that for a Wraith, it had to be cheery. "Your identification ID's are now in transit…Reading…Atlantian Puddle Jumper class 3V – oh, dear, but this _is _a bit of a problem."

"I'm – going – to –kill – you," Rodney uttered under clenched teeth.

"Hmm…well…not if they get to it first."


	3. Chapter 3: The Wraith Holiday

CHAPTER 3: THE WRAITH HOLIDAY

The female Wraith's voice didn't stop. She just kept talking and talking. And while she kept talking and talking, she dispatched a pair of escort darts to fetch them while McKay had the biggest freak-out of his life.

"What is _wrong _with you, Major? Are you _trying _to kill us?" McKay pranced around the chair, sat down, stood up, and checked the readings again.

"Relax, Rodney, they can't _see _us – we're still cloaked."

"Well, they know that we are here," Teyla said pointedly. "So, maybe we should consider leaving."

"—And we hope you enjoy your temporary stay on Anti-Atlantis Colony 4!"

"Temporary?" McKay rounded off the transmission.

"Well, they _are _going to eat us, eventually," Sheppard shrugged.

McKay glared at Sheppard as a new stream of transmissions floated through their audio-communications system. This time, the female Wraith, who had just pleasantly finished describing how wonderful Anti-Atlantis was and how proud they were to have the galaxy's only Atlantian Skull-of-Fame exhibit, a superior tribute and display for how much the Wraith of Colony 4 hate the Atlantians, told them in a not-so pleasant voice to lower their cloak.

McKay leaned forwards, flicking on communications so that Sheppard could give a hearty, "No."

"Excuse me? I'm sorry, but it says here you're in an Atlantian Puddlejumper, which means you must be Atlantian. Atlantians are number 1 right now on the Import Register – you fetch a wonderful price on our menus, the most popular dish. We'll have to escort you in, I'm afraid."

"Well, that sounds nice. But we're not actually here," Sheppard explained.

"I'm sorry?"

"No, can you see us?"

"Well…no, but-"

"Because we're not here. We're not Atlantians. I think you've made a mistake."

The female Wraith got a little uncomfortable with this idea and became rather silent for a long period of time.

"Listen," Sheppard leaned back and gestured casually with his hand – really to make a show to Mckay and Teyla, because the Wraith couldn't see him. "You sound like a nice gal, I know it's a bit confusing, but we're not Atlantians. Your readings are probably wrong because you've never met one of us before. Our ship is invisible…and…so are we."

"Invisible?"

"Yes, we're the Invisibonians…of the…Star Wars Galaxy…it's a galaxy…far, far…away."

"I see…"

Rodney buried his face in hands; Teyla was too stunned in shock to know whether this hair-brained scheme was even working.

"So, we're invisible unless we take on a form you can see. Same with our ship. That's probably why your readings are getting all messed up."

The Wraith was silent for an instant, which made Sheppard rather nervous. Frightening enough, he still thought it was a brilliant plan.

"Right you are, that _would _make a lot of sense, wouldn't it? Well, it certainly explains why you're not on our Import Register – my word, I've never heard of the Invisibonians. And you chose our humble and wonderful world for your first visit into the Pegasus Galaxy, currently in Court undergoing a legal change to Wraith United Galaxy?"

"Yes!" McKay piped up, scared to hear his own voice. "We're uh, here to learn about your culture!" Which was altogether not a lie at all, so his voice was fairly steady.

"Oh, that's so lovely to hear. We don't often get vacationers of other species, maybe the Dracarins and the Yoodlies, but that's really it."

"Oh really?" McKay forced a laugh, reflecting on the strangeness of the conversation, "Why is that?"

"Well, dear me, we consume everyone else! Are you edible, then?"

"No! No, not at all," Sheppard nodded. "We're invisible, right? Nothing to eat there."

"Right, right, makes sense."

"But, when we come to your world, we'll have to take form. We aren't...used to taking forms in this galaxy and we currently only know how to do the human-form – but it's just a mirage," Sheppard emphasized.

"Right, so not edible. I see. Well, I'll just issue you a couple permits for you, then, and you'll be all set. Just wear the badges around your necks and nobody will give you any trouble – I've got it all worked out on my end here."

"Our compliments, thank you!" Sheppard grinned deviously. "What's your name?"

"Not a problem! My name is Betty. Our escorts will take you to the Vacation Sector of the planet. How will you be paying?"

"Er…"

They exchanged glances with each other. So they were learning that the Wraith had a currency…and vacationing…and restaurants with Atlantians as the number 1 choice on the menu.

"Wraith dollars comes in the form of digitized credit or people from the Import Register – Atlantians are worth the most."

"Well," Sheppard started, "We don't have either."

"Oh." The word "oh" has so many fascinating uses.

"Well, we're new to this galaxy. We didn't know about any of it."

"We _do _have another system for outworlders," The female Wraith named Betty began. "If you can provide us with information about a planet with a fresh supply of people, you would be provided our most luxurious accommodations."

Mckay tried to vividly, without success, try to imagine what Wraith luxury would look like. Then a strangely unrelated, though understandably connected, imaginary picture popped into his mind of a cocktail bar in the Caribbean playing host to gambling, smoking, and drinking Borg, Wraith, Sith Lords, and Gou'alds.

"Darth Vader was there, too – playing the jazz piano in the corner," Sheppard's voice pulled McKay out of his daydreaming trance.

"-What?" He snapped.

"The cocktail bar?" Sheppard blinked, as if McKay was being really daft about the whole thing – which made no sense because the entire conversation was daft to begin with.

McKay – get this –freaked out. "Are you reading my thoughts? Oh my god, you're reading my mind! How did you do that!"

"I didn't! – but let's get back to the mission, shall we?" Sheppard imitated his earlier statement, punching the communication buttons again. I don't actually know if they're buttons, really, but it's just so much harder to describe someone _gently guiding their fingers up or down the consol to initialize the controls that don't really look like they're there but are! Oh, they are._

"I do not think this is what Dr. Weir had in mind…" Teyla said under her breath, looking between the two. If _only _the jumper window would implode.

"We know of a planet full of people," Sheppard announced to Betty the dispatcher Wraith.

Teyla and McKay shot him incredulous looks. How could Major Sheppard, that compassionate sweetheart, always out to save the world, betray a planet of people to the Wraith?

"The Genii. Hate them bastards."

"Oh, but we already know of them. Their villages are small, not worth – "

"Did you happen to look underground?"

"Er, no?"

"Well, you should. They're all there."

"Well! This is good news, indeed! Escorts are now flanking your invisible ship and have your Colony 4 Vacation Passes ready to go! Your payment has been submitted to the Colony 4 Wraith Government –"

"You have a government?" Rodney interrupted, intrigued.

"Well, Gerald, he's just one Wraith…but still…the government no less! Tells us all what to do. Enjoy your stay!"

And with that cheery end, the jumper followed the strange looking Wraith escort ships down towards a flashy part of the planet. The entire while the team wondered if this was the craziest thing they'd done yet. They were about to vacation on a Wraith planet. They could potentially be caught and killed – but they faced that possibility in every episode – er, mission – so was this really any different? No, I think not. Besides, if they just picked boring run of the mill missions, you'd tire of wanting to hear the stories and just shut them off. Then Sheppard and the gang would be out of a job and out on the street, dying of starvation under the baking sun. So, it's either go to Wraith planet for vacation or be burnt to a crispy cinder under a vicious sun, while dying of starvation and many multiple, horrible diseases with only a broken accordion to keep them company. I thought so, too.

Wraith Vacation, here we come!


	4. Chapter 4: The Invisibonians

CHAPTER 4: THE INVISIBONIANS

"You know, maybe you should do something about those Darth Vader hallucinations," McKay said, starting the chapter with some thoughtful conversation as they descended down towards the 'vacation area' of the Wraith planet.

Sheppard, on the other hand, thought the chapter didn't need to open with pointless dribble and believed that it should begin right where the action starts. Furthermore, he felt just fine with his Darth Vader hallucinations.

"Darth Vader might just save our asses one of these days, so don't threaten him again," he warned with a wave of his hand, which should have been on the pilot handles.

McKay's face contorted –a compilation of confusion, frustration and bursting anger tangling up to such extremes that it just comes out as this choked up "GAHHH!" expression. He turned to look at Teyla but she was purposely staring at the back wall, pretending she wasn't hearing any of it.

"What?" Sheppard looked at him. "Why you looking at me like I'm crazy?"

Pause.

"Did you not even hear yourself? I mean…" McKay tried to shake it off and relax. But then he realized he was landing on a Wraith planet to have a vacation. He moved from the complicated strangeness of Sheppard to the complicated paradox of the mission.

"It looks like we have been taken to a public landing pad of some sorts."

"Yep."

"Yep…"

Our action-packed team nervously left the puddle jumper and stepped on to Wraith soil. If they had Wraith soil. We could call it, Wraith concrete, instead? Because they were standing on a large circular landing-pad, as Teyla just told you! So I don't see why I have to reiterate it! It had lots of graphed designs painted on it, signifying that it was a wonderful vacationers parking lot – at least that's what we are guessing, because Sheppard's team didn't read Wraith. And neither do I, so you're plum out of luck.

A few other grotesquely bulky spaceships occupied the other designated spots and the two little Wraith escort ships stood nearby. The Wraith who occupied them were now walking straight towards them.

"I feel wrong just standing here, you know? Watching them walk towards us," McKay pointed out.

Sheppard nodded. "I know what you mean. I'm just so used to letting them have it with my P-90. I can't tell you how hard it's been not to take aim."

"You _are _taking aim," Teyla flashed him eyes of warning.

"Like I said, it's been _hard."_

"Invisibonians, here are your permits," The first one said with an unpleasant growl, thrusting three neckbands with cards towards them. He was not at all as friendly as Betty the Wraith.

The second one growled and looked them up and down. I can only describe them as being the first one or the second one, because honestly? What different features could I differentiate them by? They all look the goddamn same!

"You don't look like Invisibonians," he growled.

"How do you know, you've never seen one before!" McKay started.

"You look like…the Earth humans…from Atlantis! Sheppard and his stupid team. But we killed them, destroyed Atlantis…how could that be?" A deviously devilish grin came over the Wraith.

"That's why we look like them," Sheppard sighed, as if bored by the whole affair.

The Wraith took this as though he were missing something and uttered a "What?"

"Well, it's no good taking on physical form of people that still exist, is it? Don't you think it's a little rude? Impersonating people that are still out there? Using their image and their name? That's so completely rude. In fact, I don't think we want to vacation here – and we'll tell all the Invisibonians in our galaxy not to bother with your –"

"Ahrhg" The Wraith said.

"Snarling at us won't make it better, goodbye." Sheppard turned around and began to walk back towards the Jumper. Teyla and McKay followed; mostly because they felt that standing there gawping at the two looming (and drooling) Wraiths was very unpleasant.

"Wait!" The second Wraith called out with much resistance and reluctance. "I'm sorry."

Sheppard froze and turned to stare at the Wraith.

"What?"

"I would kill you!" The Wraith added. "But you're Invisibonians with permits, and you must enjoy your holiday in our holiday capital, WRAITHLAND! MY PARTNER, LESTER, WILL TAKE YOU TO YOUR HOTEL!" The volume on his voice rose to incredible volumes by the time he had finished that sentence, so that McKay was covering his ears.

"Why are you yelling at us?" McKay complained, as they started their walk towards a shiny silver dome. Stretched beyond it, twisting towers of hotels glimmered under the sparkly blue atmosphere shield that contained the planet. Everything had nice bright colours, you see, with firework shows going off every hour, to make up for the grumpy Wraith faces. When you saw a grumpy Wraith face, all you could think was "my god, everyone is so unhappy here, why the hell am I vacationing here?" But, then you look into the dazzling display of architecture, landscape and fireworks and go "WOWEE!" And your ugly Wraith problem is forgotten. I imagine that's why they created those strange scrambled-looking masks to cover their faces, though, I think we can safely conclude that they really lost the point on that one.

"BECAUSE IT MAKES ME ANGRY TO LOOK ON YOU AS SHEPPARD AND HIS TEAM! AND NOT BE ABLE TO KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND!"

"We are sorry," Teyla offered. "I know how you feel."

Sheppard paused for an instant, regarding Teyla's thoughts and then asked, "What was wrong with Sheppard and his team?"

They entered the silver dome and were greeted by a bustling crowd of strange beings – either Wraith or very inedible looking creatures – you'd understand if you saw them. SO weird looking. One of them looked like a walking giant soccer ball. Anyway, it was a central hub for a hover transit system and the trams went directly to the hotels.

"Sheppard killed my brother, Steve!" The Wraith grumbled, stopping. This is where he left them. Lester would take them to their hotel.

They departed with a note of surprise. Piling into a tram that smelled of goats, Sheppard turned to Teyla and McKay. "Wow, his name was actually Steve!"

"Wow, you must feel so proud of yourself," McKay stared in annoyance before looking away. He saw a Wraith couple sitting in the seats up ahead of them, kissing.

"Young love," Lester commented, grinning.

McKay wanted to barf.

"We are here," Lester pointed to the doors, swinging open, taking no notice of Rodney's pale sickness.

They wound their way up a departure ramp and entered the lobby of a – seriously! – Luxurious Fairmont-style greeting lounge. Chandeliers sparkled down from the gilded ceilings, lush leafy potted plants flanked dark leather couches over finely woven carpet. The front desk took up half of the lobby's side, with its smooth redwood polish. The entire Wraith hotel workforce wore crisp hotel butler outfits, with gold buttons might I add.

"What the hell?" Sheppard mumbled.

"You think Wraith are just mindless killer zombies or something?" Lester snarled at them, seeing their surprise.

"Well…yes?" McKay said, his eyes caught against the glitter.

"Bad press, you know," Sheppard shrugged.

Lester growled at them under his breath and led them towards the front desk where he proceeded to smack a stack of papers down. The hotel attendant nodded and waved Lester away. They looked at his nametag: ALTOAIGNTZA.

They blinked.

Then Sheppard couldn't resist, especially when the Wraith didn't say anything first. "Your name is different."

"What are you trying to say?" He snarled. "Here, Invisibonians. Your keys. Go to the shopping concourse to your left because check-in isn't for an hour."

Thinking it best not to disagree, they headed towards a set of large wooden doors propped open to reveal a bright complex lit up by hundreds of shops and a stylish glass ceiling overhead. Many Wraith and weird-weird-aliens were shopping to their heart's delight.

"This should be interesting," Teyla muttered.

Sheppard didn't hear Teyla's words that very minute (though, McKay did!) because his eyes had caught something else. It was something that made his jaw drop open and force the words "OH MY GOD," from his throat.


End file.
